


steel trap jaws

by presidentbees



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Body Modification, Decapitation, Gladiators, Goretober 2018, Science Fiction, blood sports, pit fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentbees/pseuds/presidentbees
Summary: The crowd roared as Honey’s limp body flew across the ring, colliding with the electric barrier that enclosed the battle ring from the thousands of fans. Blue sparks skittered across her bare skin, and Honey could feel her teeth rattling inside of her skull before she was finally dropped back to the floor.Staggering to her feet, Honey laughed, sounding slightly hysterical. “Fuck, is that what you’ve got? Is that it?”





	steel trap jaws

The crowd roared as Honey’s limp body flew across the ring, colliding with the electric barrier that enclosed the battle ring from the thousands of fans. Blue sparks skittered across her bare skin, and Honey could feel her teeth rattling inside of her skull before she was finally dropped back to the floor.

Static filled Honey’s vision as the tech in her eyes bugged out — her eyes felt hot inside of her head as the bionic tech doubled its work, trying to calibrate itself after the shock.

Blindly, she groped out and felt around the soft sand of the pit as she pulled herself up.

Staggering to her feet, Honey laughed, sounding slightly hysterical. “Fuck, is that what you’ve got? Is that it?”

Her mouth tasted like burnt, boiled blood from where she had bitten her tongue as she was electrocuted. She spit, shaking her head to clear her vision — static clouds blocked out most of her vision, but she could see enough to fight.

The cyclops was still pacing on the other side of the arena. Its knuckles were dragging through the soft sand, creating gouges as it continued to watch Honey with its unblinking, bionic eye. The lights in its eye pulsed slightly, alternating between orange and yellow as it waited for Honey to make her next move.

This was a variation of a cyclops — a cheap knockoff meant specifically for ring fighting. Its screen was cracked in places, and discolored patches colors occasionally glitched across its face. A black, dead looking tongue lolled out of its toothless mouth. The electric bracers around its wrists had dug into the flesh so many times that there were exposed patches of red, angry flesh among the ashen gray skin.

There was the sound of a buzzer, and the cyclops’ body jerked as electric volts surged through its bracers. It tossed its head, the vertebra in its neck cracking in a rapid staccato as it turned and began bearing down on Honey with lightning quick speed.

Raising her bare fists, Honey tried to track the cyclops’ movements as it erratically dashed around her in tightening circles. Its flat feet worked like paddles to turn up loose sand, clouding the air around them as Honey kept tracking it.

Finally, the cyclops lunged forward, reaching out to grab Honey by the scruff of her neck. She ducked, feeling the clawed hand whizz over her buzzed scalp as she paused, braced herself, and then pushed off with her legs in order to launch herself at the cyclops’ long, slender neck.

Putting one hand against the back of its skull, Honey felt her muscles protest as she wrapped her legs around the shoulders and threw her whole weight forward. Both she and the cyclops went spilling forward as its balance was thrown off, and Honey felt one of her ankles snap as it was pinned underneath the cyclops’ massive rib cage — no time to worry about that though.

The cyclops was already beginning to recover, roaring as it struggled to get its arms underneath itself. Tilting her head back, Honey opened her mouth. She could feel her bones pop and shift as her jaw unhinged, pushed out by the mechanics she’d had built into her skull so that she could stretch her mouth wider — wider — wide enough that it felt like her entire face was about to split.

Then with the force of a steel trap, Honey snapped her head down, clamping her jaws into the cyclops' leathery neck. 

The cyclops’ roars turned into wet gurgles as Honey sunk her teeth into its neck. Vertebrae crunched underneath her reinforced molars. Boiling hot blood exploded in her mouth, running down her chin and mixed with the sand. She could feel the system in her jaw working, shifting and locking into place as she continued to bite down.

Blood started to run down her throat, and Honey almost choked as the blood began to sear her from the inside out. It tasted unbearably acetic, poisonous, like she was drinking the molten core of a battery. /p>

At this point, the cyclops had gone almost completely limp. It spasmed slightly as Honey's teeth severed its exposed nerves, ripping through the the remaining bio-muscle and tissue like it was candy. There was a sickening, tearing noise as Honey shook her head like a dog, tearing away at the last few metal cables holding the cyclops’ neck together. The crowd roared as Honey grabbed the cyclops’ head by the loose skin on its scalp, lifting it above her head like a war trophy.

She could hear the crowd chanting her name, but it sounded distant to her ears. Honey was vaguely aware of somebody putting their hands on her shoulders, leading her out of the ring as she continued to bask in the praise of millions of fans.

_‘They loved it,’ she thought deliriously. ‘We did so job. Good job. Well job done did. Done. Yes.’_

Blood pounded in Honey’s ears as she was half-lead, half-carried out of the ring. As soon as she was out of sight of the audience, she was swamped by medical professionals who didn’t waste time getting her to a cot before they began injecting her with nanobytes and steroids to keep her from crashing.

Somebody grabbed her under the armpits, holding Honey up as her broken ankle buckled underneath her and she went careening to the side. Honey could feel her mouth move as she let out a giggle, but it felt so removed — like it was happening to somebody else. The only thing that she could feel was the warm glow of validation blooming in her chest as her eyes gently slipped closed and—

. . .

. . .

. . . 

A hand gently slapped her face.

Blinking, Honey opened her eyes to find that she was sitting on a folding chair. The static had cleared from her eyes, and she saw that she was still in the tunnel leading out of the pit — to her left, she could hear another fight already taking place. Both of her hands were bandaged, and she was holding a juice box. Somebody had dressed her in a nondescript jumpsuit, draping a heavy blanket around her shoulders. Other than a steady burning sensation in the back of her throat, and her jaw being a little sore, Honey felt like her usual self.

A well dressed man stood in front of her, one hand holding a cane while the other slapped her cheek — a little rougher this time. The electronic name tag affixed to his suit read “S. STONE” — also known as the man who employed Honey. 

Honey made a noise of confusion — her throat constricted as she tried to talk, and all she could do was make a raspy, wheezing noise. Her throat felt raw from swallowing so much synthetic blood, and she knew from experience that it wasn't going to stop paining her for a long while. 

Silas Stone stepped back, appraising his prized fighter with cold, calculating eyes. “Well, Honey, you won. How are you feeling?”

“I feel great.” Honey smiled even as her voice cracked on the last syllable. “When do I do again?”

**Author's Note:**

> i dont have anything to say other than im fucking indulgent with honey. this was written for goretober and i never got around to truly cleaning it up bc i prefer it like this


End file.
